


What She Is

by alexygalaxy



Series: Widojest Week 2019 [7]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Internal Monologue, guys im sdgfdssdgsadg i love her, its 95 percent caleb's thoughts abt jester, mild/referenced spoilers thru ep 62, slash an excuse for me to wax poetic about my blue wife
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-15
Updated: 2019-07-15
Packaged: 2020-06-29 04:44:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19822804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexygalaxy/pseuds/alexygalaxy
Summary: Jester asks Caleb if he's in love with her. He doesn't have to think to know the answer, but he does anyways.





	What She Is

**Author's Note:**

> widojest week day 7: are you secretly in love with me/zone of truth
> 
> it's short and sweet (and a day late, shhh, i had a wedding this weekend that took up more time than i thought) but i think it's a very cute and fitting end to the week. enjoy!!

Jester’s jewelry jingles in the otherwise silent room as her head swings from one side to the other. 

“Nope, I’ve got no more questions for you. You can go,” she says to the rather disgruntled halfling sitting across from the table from her. 

They stand, huffing as they do so, and storm away, disappearing out the door, back into the bustle of the tavern.

“Well, that was useless,” Fjord mutters, watching their last suspect wander away having provided a perfectly solid, and forcibly truthful, alibi.

“Kind of,” Jester responds, “But I still have a minute left on my spell. Might as well get soooome use out of it.”

Everyone groans at the grin splitting Jester’s face, but no one gets up to leave. As long as they’re not the one answering, this will be fun. 

“Mmmm,” Jester pretends to ponder her choices. Only one of the Nein failed to resist the spell, so the decision is not hard to make, but she also enjoys leaving her friends in suspense. After all, she’s the only one who knows who can and can’t lie. She gives a glance to each of her companions, trying to catch their eyes as she cycles through, landing finally on a mess of red hair and slightly sooty skin to her left. 

“Caleb!” she calls, excitement in her voice. 

“Ja?” he answers, eyebrows rising and corners of his mouth turning up in an amused smile at the prospect of whatever silly and embarrassing questions she has in store for him. 

“Aaaaare youuuuuu,” she drags out, keeping their gazes locked, “secretly in love with me?”

He chuckles. 

Of course he is, he thinks. How could he not be? How could he spend more than a couple minutes, let alone several months, getting somewhat close to a year, around Jester and not be head over heels for her?

She is just utterly beautiful. Her eyes, which he is currently staring into, are eternally wide and shining, always looking at the world with curiosity and hope. They’re also a lovely shade of purple. Her nose, when it isn’t crinkled up with one of her huge smiles, is big and round and fits perfectly on her face. Her lips, her wonderful lips, are thick and soft, or so he imagines. He has yet to be given the grace to kiss them, though he’s thought about it more times than even  _ he _ can count. 

Sometimes, her lips smile, giant toothy grins that are beyond infectious, and cause every other pair of lips in the vicinity to pull upwards too. Other times, they pout, bending down in a perfect arc, always managing to get Jester her way. They rarely frown and quiver, but when they do, his chest aches, because he knows something truly terrible must have happened. 

They form words with a cadence quite unique, lilting over syllables almost like a song. They do sing, too, very often, and it is always a glorious sound. They cast spells, powerful and terrifying, and they scream out in battle with ferocity that sends everything in the vicinity quaking. They say his name with an extra long ‘a’, like only they can. They touched his cheek, once, and if he thinks hard enough he can still remember how they felt. 

And that’s just her face. She’s also got shoulders, dusted with freckles of a darker blue than the rest of her, and that tend to wiggle around as she talks in a very cute manner. She’s got a chest which, he has to admit, is  _ very _ nice, though it’s certainly not the reason he’s in love with her. She’s got arms that are so fucking strong, but also really good at gentle hugs. She’s got hands that are constantly reaching out and away from her, pulling others in closer, leaving their mark on temple walls and battle grounds, clutching tight to the things she truly cares about. 

She has a stomach, which he’d like to wrap his arms around, and hips, which she tends to swing as she walks and pop out when she stands. Mostly the left one, he’s noticed. She’s got legs, sturdy and swift, and she loves to kick them out when she’s excited, especially when she’s dancing. 

She’s got a tail and horns too, things which he hasn’t seen all that often outside of her. (The amount of horns and tails he sees on a regular basis has been seriously decreased since … a while ago.) Jester’s tail is heart-shaped, what else would it be shaped like, and it’s just as mischievous and tricky as the rest of her. Her horns curl through her hair, twisting outwards like her blue locks twist at the nape of her neck. She dresses them up, with ribbons and silver jewelry, makes them stand out against the backdrop of every boring townsperson the group crosses. He’d love to run his hands over them, following their curve until he reaches the curve of her head and he can spread his fingers through her hair and draw her close by her neck.

That’s just the parts of her, though. And while they are all beautiful and magnificent, and so undeniably  _ her _ , they’re nothing compared to the woman herself. 

  
  
Jester Lavorre is a god damn force to be reckoned with, in every possible way. She is strength, she is mischief, she is power and she is joy. She is cunning magic, vanquishing enemies in a split second and raising allies from death’s door the next. She is ferocity, boiling and bubbling under her skin for one who truly deserves her full wrath. 

She is trust, given freely and generously to her god, to those they meet on the road. To the kind of terrible people surrounding her now, in whom she still always manages to see good. She is safety, promised protection against any evil whether it lurk in a terrifying form around the next corner, or in the depths of her friends' own minds. She is home, in the way that everyone at this table is home to everyone else. 

She’s shutters slammed open in unsuspecting bars. She’s wide eyes in the window of a bakery as she explains how they put cinnamon on sweets in Nicodranas. She’s a hand in his hand as they stare into the dodecahedron for the first time, and she’s the voice of compassion for a little kenku girl the rest of them would have left behind in the swamp. She’s clumsy fingers across someone else’s piano and clumsier feet on the dance floor in a Hupperdook bar. She’s stubborn care of an unwilling weasel she bought on the side of the road. She’s a peal of laughter in the jungle as he tells a terrible joke.

She’s Frumpkin’s second favorite, after himself. She’s sketchbooks and paintings and murals, beauty created to share. She’s singing at all the wrong times, but it somehow only makes people love her more. She’s new dresses, twirled around, and bright pink backpacks, and dicks drawn on every available surface. She’s a terrible collection of smut books, and tentative questions about other people’s love lives. She’s immediate obsession with any vaguely furry creature. She’s finding fun even the nastiest of places, and she’s the one to cheer people up at the end of a terrible day. 

She’s a smile forced to his own lips when he didn’t think it was possible. She’s soft words on a late watch, reminding him that even good people sometimes do bad things, and that’s okay. She’s the person he took his arm wraps off for good in front of. She’s hope in a dark tunnel, keeping them going even when she’s not sure herself. She’s one of the reasons he’s so fucking glad he’s still living.

She’s asked him if he’s in love with her before. He didn’t answer then, but he could’ve, and it would’ve been a resounding yes. She’s just so easy to fall in love with.

And she’s still looking at him, chin propped on one hand as she still hasn’t broken their gaze, waiting for his reply. Her words echo in his head before he makes his answer. 

_ Are you secretly in love with me? _

“No.” he says, and the spell does not stop him. “It has never been a secret.”

**Author's Note:**

> aaaaaaand thats it!!!! widojest week complete!!!!!!! 
> 
> i hope you enjoyed, and feel free to leave kudos/comments if you like! and come hit me up at cadykeus-clay if you want to talk widojest/cr in general or maybe shoot me some fic ideas??? can't guarantee i'll write em cause i already have like 12 WIPS but a little inspiration never hurt nobody. 
> 
> <3


End file.
